


In Too Deep

by grey2510



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Requests (SPN) [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: I promise, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nobody Dies, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: A near-death experience on a case isn't enough to stop Dean from diving back in to make sure Cas is ok.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k-vichan (Vichan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vichan/gifts).



> @k-vichan replied to your post: Prompt Me  
> 50, Destiel :3
> 
> lake, call, face, ~~track~~ , grind, ~~shelter~~ , breath
> 
> Credit to ThayerKerbasy for the title and thanks for giving this a look for me. :)

It doesn’t matter how good of a swimmer he is, Dean Winchester is going to drown.

Scaly claws dig at his ankle, reach up and grab him by the belt loop, drag him down. He kicks, he thrashes, he tries his best to get his blade anywhere near the bony arm, but he can’t quite twist himself all the way, and his clothes are like fucking anchors, and his lungs are searing.

He can hold his breath like a pro; John had made them practice in shitty motel pools— _This ain’t a sport, son. This is survival._ —had made them do laps like they were going for Olympic gold, had drilled into them every lifeguarding skill.

But it just doesn’t fucking matter.

If Dean’s vision weren’t purpling, if his lungs weren’t about to burst, if his mouth weren’t filling with water because _he has to breathe he can’t hold it it’s just water it’s a bad idea_ —he might remember—

_Sammy’s arms grasped at his shoulders, pulling him down, but Dean was just over his head, had just been on the edge of that steep slope of the pool bottom, on his tiptoes, and Sam’s panic had pushed them into the deep end, and it didn’t matter that they both knew how to swim, Dean couldn’t hold Sam up and clear his own head above the water, and Sam was too frantic to calm down and swim for himself, and the water kept lapping over his eyes, even as he kicked and kicked and pushed up as hard as he could when his toes grazed the tiles, and then it was Dad jumping in, fully clothed, and the weight of Sam was lifted from him and strong arms pulled him up, into air—_

Red eyes glare up at him, and the claws sink into flesh, and he can’t breathe he can’t fucking breathe—

He tries, one final kick at that nightmarish face, but it doesn’t matter, no matter how hard he tries to grind his boot down, the claws don’t release, and he just needs one breath one fucking breath—

Blue-white light flashes and instinctively Dean closes his eyes, even though every nerve in his body is screaming at him for _air_ and nothing else. The claws release, and he kicks, half-heartedly, to what he thinks is the surface, but he can’t tell—it’s all too murky and confused, especially after the flash of light. There’s movement next to him, and suddenly he’s being pulled up and up and—  

_Breath._

“C’mon, Dean, we’re almost there. Stay with me!”

“Sam?” he chokes out, mouth barely cresting the water, so worn out that he doesn’t even object to the fact that his baby brother is dragging his sorry ass to the shore of the lake.

It seems like hours until they reach the sand and dirt, though they were able to half-stumble through the shallows. Dean collapses face-first into the ground, still coughing. His lungs still burn, and now the cuts and scratches on his ankles and torso are making themselves known. Absently, he registers that Sam’s already inspecting the wounds, but something isn’t right—  

“Sam, where’s Cas?”

Sam’s wet hair hangs in front of his face, and it makes him look about ten years and a few Apocalypses younger, like a kicked puppy. “He hasn’t come back yet.”

Still hacking up a goddamn lung, Dean pushes away Sam’s hands and hauls himself to his feet, ignoring the stabs of pain from every corner of his body.

“Cas!” The call is hoarse but it echoes in the stillness of the lake and woods. _No, no, no, not again—_ “CAS!”

But there’s nothing. Not even a breeze to disturb the surface of the lake.

He can’t do this again.

_He could hear Bobby behind him (Sam, too—and fuck, Sam would just have to wait, at least he was up and walking and talking), Bobby grumbling about Dean not doing some “damn fool thing", but Dean couldn’t slow down, because maybe if he got there a little faster, he could pull Cas back from whatever had taken him over. But then he pulled up short at the water’s edge, saw Cas walking into the water, his arms out, and then just sinking below the surface. And that stupid fucking trenchcoat washed up, weighing about ten thousand pounds in Dean’s hands, and not just because of the water. And if drowning was good enough for Cas, then maybe it'd be good enough for Dean, or at least his liver—_

He can’t do this again.

Dean looks to Sam, but for once he can’t read his brother’s expression.

“CAS!”

And fuck it, he will go back, he will drag that sonofabitch out of the water—

“Dean!”

Sam’s hand is tight on his arm, holding him back, and Dean’s about to fight him off, even if he knows he’ll lose this fight—hell, he’s still losing blood, it’s just getting washed away with the rivulets running down him and into the muddy sand—but Sam’s looking past Dean, at the water.

Dean follows his gaze, and there’s something bright just under the surface about a hundred feet from the shore. As they watch, it grows brighter and brighter, spreading in a halo.

_A halo._

They cover their eyes with their arms at the last minute as the circle of light flashes, even brighter than it did right before Sam grabbed Dean from the water. Dean can see it even through his eyelids, an orangey-pink glow, and then it cuts out abruptly.

When Dean opens his eyes again, Cas is there, looking like he just rolled off the Heaven assembly line. The air crackles around him before it dissipates, leaving the hair on the back of Dean’s neck sticking up.

Repressing a shiver, he asks, “Cas?”, as his eyes warily search the angel’s face, looking for signs of Cas, his Cas, not Castiel of wrath and righteousness.

Fortunately, the intensity of Cas’ posture and gaze softens, and Dean can almost imagine those wings of his folding gently against his back. Cas looks to Sam, and from the corner of his eye, Dean sees his brother nod that he’s alright. He puts a hand against Dean’s cheek, lightly cupping his jaw, and Dean’s so relieved that Cas is alive and apparently unharmed that he leans into the touch without any of the reservation he usually has when Sam’s nearby. The tingle of cool Grace expands his lungs and the strain of his muscles eases instantly while cuts and scratches knit together. The hand drops, and Cas opens his mouth to speak, but his words are cut off by Dean embracing him fiercely.

“Sonofabitch,” he says into the surprisingly dry folds of the trenchcoat’s shoulder; his fists bunch in the fabric at the back. Cas’ arms take a moment to respond to the suddenness of Dean’s attack, but they come up to Dean’s back, pulling him in. “I thought— When you didn’t come up…”

There’s a low almost-chuckle from Cas, more an amused exhalation than anything, as they separate a little. “I don’t require breath.”

Dean shakes his head, one part in fondness and one part in half-hysterical relief. “Yeah, but, uh, after the last time...I just..."

Understanding seems to reach Cas, and his expression falls. “Oh. I’m fine, Dean. And it’s gone—the nest has been taken care of.”

“There were more?” Sam pipes up from the sidelines. Honestly, Dean had forgotten Sam is still there.

But, Sam is promptly forgotten, however, when Dean takes Cas into his arms again, taking comfort in the fact that Cas is _here_ and _tangible_ and  _alive_.

“Never do that again,” he whispers in a half-guttural growl. He can’t keep his voice steady even if he wanted to.

“Of course, Dean.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> On a personal note: the Dean and Sam in the pool story is from experience -- one of the most vivid memories of my childhood is my mom jumping in while my brother's panicking kept pushing me down. (And we could swim! Like, really well! Just for whatever reason, something freaked my brother out and he lost it.) 
> 
>    
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> Check out my other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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